So pretty.
Of course, you know this.
But, your beauty is of no use to me.
Behind the paint, behind the sleek streaks of falsity,
You are an anchor.
I try to carry your weight, fighting against my own.
Yet, you crush me.
It's not your fault,
You are an anchor.
I repetitively mistaken your welcoming appearance for kindness and lenience.
You are an anchor.
What you may have been to me before,
is no more.
You are an anchor.
I can't hold you.
You've sunken, and your only intent is to sink others.
Yet, I keep coming down to the sea floor to free you.
Each time, coming back weaker.
I don't think you realize it,
but you are an anchor.
Maybe your paint convinced you too.
Or
Maybe you do know what you are.
Maybe you painted yourself this way,
Knowing others would come too.
But, you no longer shall fool me.
Because you are an anchor.
I am not strong enough to lift you.
I do not wish to lift you.
I do not wish to see your paint anymore.
I wish only for others to realize this too.
Because drowning isn't very fucking fun.
